Hope is All
by Coppercurls
Summary: A bunch of Vidanric and Meliara love vignettes.
1. Discoveries

Author's note: I was browsing around Fanfiction.net one day and found out there were only a few Sherwood Smith tales. Gasp. Shock. Horror. I decided to start this story to bring you vignettes (short stories) of Danric-and- Mel-goodness. Each chapter has it's own story, what would happen if someone did something slightly different than they did in the books. I cannot promise you I will update soon, but if I get bundles of reviews, I will work a lot faster. Let the story begin! (This chapter starts with an excerpt.)  
  
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Sherwood Smith, save the plot line.  
  
Discoveries: Chapter One of Hope is All  
  
By Coppercurls  
  
(Excerpt from Court Duel)  
  
In my room, I found Mora sewing. She looked at me in surprise, and hastily got to her feet to curtsy.  
  
"Never mind that," I said. "Tell me, who brings letters and things?"  
  
"The runners, my lady," she said.  
  
"Can you find out who sent a runner?" When she hesitated, I said, "Look, I just want to find out who gave me these gifts. I know under the old king, people could be bribed. Is that true now? Please, speak plain. I won't tell anyone what you tell me, and I won't make trouble."  
  
Mora pursed her lips. "There are times when the runners can be bribed, my lady," she said carefully."But not all of them. Were it to get out, they could lose their position."  
  
"So everyone belowstairs doesn't know everything?"  
  
"No, my lady. many people use personal runners to deliver things to the palace runners; and the loyal ones don't talk."  
  
"Ah hah!" I exclaimed. "Then tell me this: Can something be returned along the same route, even though I don't know to whom it's going?"  
  
She though a bit, then nodded. "I think that can be arranged."  
  
"Good. Then let me pen a message, and please see that it gets sent right away." I dived down onto the cushions beside the desk and rummaged about, and came up with pen and writing paper. On the paper I wrote: The gifts are beautiful, and I thank you, but what do they mean?  
  
I signed my name, sealed the letter, and handed it to Mora.  
  
She left at once, and I was severely tempted to try to follow her.  
  
(End Excerpt)  
  
I spent a moment trying to shrug that feeling off, but it was firmly implanted in my heart. I had to figure out who it was, and as soon as possible. If this anonymous person didn't want me to eventually find out about him, then why did he send a ring in the first place?  
  
All these thoughts shot across my mind in a matter of seconds, leaving me slightly dazed. I rapidly discarded my slippers and sneaked down the cunningly hidden staircase that spiraled down to where the servants stayed, my completely bare feet making a barely audible padding sound.  
  
Mora was moving slowly, her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. She strode to a burly man in his early thirties and carefully pronounced, "I would like to speak with whichever runner delivered a gift to my lady, Countess Meliara Astiar of Tlanth."  
  
The man grunted and gave Mora a quick nod. He then marched over to a door of cheap wood, knocked and disappeared without a word.  
  
By then I had descended to the lower floor of the palace, and had hidden behind a sickly-looking plant, peeking at the discussion Mora was having with a servant who had an astonishingly large nose.  
  
They were too far away for me to hear any word they said, yet I could tell when their talk ended because Mora began walking briskly towards the staircase.  
  
My heart skipped a beat. My hiding place was viewable from be the staircase. I had to act quickly.  
  
I ducked under the stairs, hoping Mora wouldn't notice me, for I knew it was likely she would.  
  
Luck was with me this time. Mora stepped up the staircase without even casting a glance at my current spot.  
  
As soon as I was positive Mora was in my quarters again, I dashed after the runner, as noiseless as possible.  
  
The runner kept up a swift pace, his boots squeaking on the floor. He ascended another staircase, and I shortly after him.  
  
After quite an exhausting chase the runner came to the royal library, murmured to the servants, and entered the library. I flounced up to the servants manning the doors and asked them to open the doors. Still no thoughts were registering in my mind on who this anonymous admirer could be.  
  
The servants opened the doors, happy to oblige.  
  
The runner lifted the tapestry and entered the records study.  
  
I scowled inwardly, cursing myself for getting into this position. The runner would have to come back this way. What was I supposed to do?  
  
I tried to make the best of it by grabbing a couple of books and faking interest as I skimmed through them. The runner I had followed emerged from the small room and left, with a small smile to me.  
  
I peered over my shoulder to confirm the runner had exited the library. When I found out he had, I slammed the books shut, placed them in their original spots and meekly advanced to the tapestry.  
  
I gulped. I was just as scared as the time I had stayed in Galdran's dungeon, before Azmus rescued me. But this time Azmus wasn't here to save me. I was alone. Well, not entirely alone, if you counted the mysterious admirer of mine who was behind the tapestry in front of me. All that separated me from him was, to put it quite frankly, a piece of cloth.  
  
Taking a deep breath, a pushed away the tapestry and found myself once again gazing into the intense gray eyes of the Marquis of Shevraeth.  
  
I gaped. I shut my mouth to only open it and gape again. Shevraeth? My anonymous admirer? More like sworn enemy. At least, to me. Did he feel differently? I hadn't known. Well, maybe that was the whole "anonymous" part.  
  
I tried to cover up my shock with one of the famous court masks, but Shevraeth always knew how to read my face.  
  
He was silent, as was I. Our eyes were locked on each other's. The passion and hope in Shevrath's was unmistakable.  
  
He loved me.  
  
I made an attempt to retreat, but I felt too weak in the knees to do so. I fell down and hurriedly struggled to my feet.  
  
Shevraeth looked partly amused, even in this awkward scenario.  
  
"So you know." Was what he said, in a statement rather then a question.  
  
I thought about pretending I had no idea what he was talking about, but decided against it. I was no liar. Besides, it would probably make the situation worse.  
  
My reply was a dumbfounded nod.  
  
We resumed our staring for a minute or two.  
  
Shevraeth, seeing this was going no where, got up and walked towards me, the sound of his shoes echoing.  
  
I glanced up. His eyes were on me. Warmth flooded through me. Quickly I looked down, afraid to see that look in his eyes again.  
  
Even as my gaze was on my bare feet, I could see his legs. He stood that close."Meliara. Please look at me."he pleaded, voice a bit croaky with fear.  
  
Reluctantly, I turned my gaze upwards.  
  
Shevaeth was smiling, a true smile, not a courtly polite one. A smile filled with love.  
  
In a matter of seconds, his mouth was on mine, his breath warmly mingling with my own.  
  
I shivered in delight. It was then it struck me.  
  
I loved him back.  
  
Maybe that was why I held such resentment towards him. I had never loved anyone out of the family, and he had stolen my heart.  
  
Shevaerth took his mouth away. I had not wanted that kiss to end. I pulled him back for another kiss, gentler this time.  
  
After quite a lot of soft caresses and brief kisses, Shevaerth pulled away with a strangled laugh.  
  
"I thought you hated me." He told me before tweaking my nose.  
  
"So did I, Vidanric. So did I." I replied, then showered him with my new discovered love.  
  
Author's Note: That's the end! I hope you liked it! If you did, please submit a review. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. 


	2. The Dance

Author's note: Thank you reviewers! I really appreciate it, and yes, I did feel warm and fuzzy :P . This story has a particularly long excerpt, so bare with me here.  
  
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Sherwood Smith, save the plot line.  
  
The Dance: Chapter Two of Hope is All  
  
By Coppercurls  
  
(Excerpt from Court Duel)  
  
As the bells for second-blue echoed from wall to pillar to gloriously painted ceiling, then died away, I stood alone at the midpoint of the And because he dballroom to welcome the guests of honor. Everyone was there, or nearly everyone. Only Flauvic was missing, which did not particularly bother me.  
  
Nee and Bran came down the stairs, arm in arm, both dressed in the violet- and-white of the royal Calahanras family.  
  
My own gown was mostly white and dove gray with knots of violet ribbon as acknowledgement of my role as Bran's sister. But there the reference to the royal family ended, for my colors in the ballroom were Remalna's green and gold--the green of the plant leaves, and all shades of gold, from ocher to palest yellow, picked out in the blooms. The focus, therefore, was quite properly on Nee and Bran, who grinned like children as they came to me.  
  
I glanced up at the balcony, and a ruffle of drums brought the quiet tide of murmurings to a cease. Then an extravagant cascade of sound from all the instruments of the air, flutes to greathorns, announced the ancient promenade, and all took their places to perform the dance that their ancestors had toed-and-healed though hundreds of years before.  
  
Backs straight, heads high, fingertips meeting in an archway under which the honored two proceeded, followed by everyone else in order of rank.  
  
So it began. By the end of the promenade I knew my ball was a triumph. I breathed the heady wine of success and understood why famous hosts of the past had secreted knowledge of their artists, sometimes hiring them exclusively so that no one could reproduce the particular magic that so much skill has wrought.  
  
For a time the focus was equally on me as I made my way round the perimeter and accepted the compliments of the guests. But gradually they turned to one another, or to the entertainment, and I remained on the perimeter and thus faded into the background.  
  
Or I attempted to, anyway. For as I moved away from a group of young ladies bent on dancing, I suddenly found myself face-to-face with Flauvic. Could I possibly have overlooked him?  
  
Not likely. He was magnificent in black, white and gold, the candlelight making a blaze of his hair. His eyes were brilliant, their expression hard to read, but I sensed a kind of intensity in him when he bowed over my hand. "Beautifully done," he said with an elegant lift of his hand.  
  
"It was your suggestion," I reminded him--knowing full well he didn't need to be reminded.  
  
"You do great credit to my poor idea," he returned, bowing slightly. id not move away, I invited him to stroll with me.  
  
He agreed, and as we walked around the perimeter, he commented appreciatively--and knowledgeably--on the fine details of my evocation of our shared past, until he was seen and claimed by friends.  
  
As I watched him walk away, I contemplated just how skillfully he had contrived his entrance. He had managed, while saluting me as hostess, to avoid paying honor to Bran and Nee. One always arrives at a ball before the guests of honor, unless one wishes to insult them. Great dramas had been enacted in the past just this way, but he'd slipped in so quietly, no one-- except me, it seemed--knew that he had not been there all along.  
  
I watched him for a time, sipping as my wine. He moved deftly from group to group, managing to speak to just about every person. When I finished the wine, I set the glass down, deciding that Flauvic would always constitute an enigma.  
  
Realizing I ought to be circulating as well, I turned--and found myself confronted by the Marquis of Shevraeth.  
  
"My dear Countess," he said with a grand bow. "Please bolster my declining prestige by joining me in this dance."  
  
Declining prestige? I thought, then out loud I said, "It's a tartelande. From back then."  
  
"Which I studied up on all last week," he said, offering his arm.  
  
I took it and flushed right up to my pearl-lined headdress. Though we had spoken often, of late, at various parties, this was the first time we had danced together since Savona's ball, my second night at Athanarel. As we joined in the circle I sneaked a glance at Elenet. She was dancing with one of the ambassadors.  
  
A snap of drums and a lilting tweet caused everyone to take position, hands high, right foot pointed. The musicians reeled out a merry tune to which we dipped and turned and stepped in patterns round one another and those behind and beside us.  
  
(End Excerpt)  
  
My eyes scanned the dance floor and once I was assured that everyone was having a splendid time I turned my gaze towards my partner.  
  
His eyes were a clear, pleasant shade of gray and, I had to admit, quite attractive. I blushed more hotly than before, much to my annoyance. If Shevraeth noticed, he kept his thoughts to himself. Good thing, too. I probably would have resented him if he made any rude remark.  
  
We were still twirling and spinning one of the patterns when I surveyed the Marquis. I had to admit, overall, he was quite attractive. Not that I would ever tell him this.  
  
He was wearing an awfully-comfortable looking tunic that was long and made like a robe, colored a pale sky blue with embroidery of contrasting black and white and particularly wide sleeves. His blonde hair was pulled back and secured with a nightstar clasp which was studded with diamonds and a dazzling bluefire gem served him as an earing, reflecting the candlelight and glittering softly.  
  
I felt slightly shabby dancing with him. Although I looked acceptable, his grand appearance was intimidating. My gown was simple, yet I rather liked the way it flared out with every twist and turn of the tune.  
  
Shevraeth regarded my staring by raising a single arched eyebrow. If it were possible, I blushed even more so, and peered at our hands matching. It had just struck me that he was wearing a ring on his littlest finger.  
  
Laurel leaves were etched into it, creating a striking abstract pattern. The gem was a very fine ekirth that was so blue it looked black. Immediately it registered in my mind.  
  
That was my ring.  
  
My first though on that was: Why did Shevraeth have my ring and not my admirer.  
  
That's when it hit me.  
  
He WAS my admirer.  
  
What a shock that was. My face displayed a look of awe, surprise and oddly enough, relief.  
  
I managed to muttered. "My ring..."  
  
His grasp on her tightened and he seemed to be nervous. Well, nervous for Shevaerth.  
  
"Yes," was the flat reply I received.  
  
"It's you?" I asked, still not all the way positive on this matter.  
  
Shevraeth sighed, "It is."  
  
I felt very sheepish. He must have read my emotions which, f course, were written all over my face.  
  
As unbelievable as it sounds, Shevraeth turned a slight red, embarrassed and shameful, and told me, "I knew wearing that would be a mistake."  
  
"Mistake?" I inquired. "I don't think it's a mistake."  
  
Hope grew in the man's handsome face. "You mean...?" He managed to choke out.  
  
"I mean the feeling's mutual." I replied, brimming with happiness. Things were finally going my way.  
  
With a graceful dip, the dance ended and left Vidanric and I exchanging glances until he offered his arm to be and said, "Would you like to go out on the balcony?"  
  
I took his arm and mumbled something. He seemed to take this as a yes, and steered me towards the balcony.  
  
The scene from the balcony was that of a romantic painting. As soon as it was confirmed we were alone, Vindanric unexpectedly kissed me softly and carefully, me too surprised to do anything but allow it to happen.  
  
At this point, there was no other thought in my mind other than the one of the wonderful man standing in front of me.  
  
Author's Note: Okay, dumb ending, so sue me. On second thought, I need my money, so don't sue me. I'd love more reviews! 


	3. Flowering Love

Author's note: Ah-hah! More reviews! Much hugs to you guys! Thank you. Now, this isn't one of my best vignettes, so bare with me here. Thanks again, reviewers!  
  
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Sherwood Smith, save the plot line.  
  
Flowering Love: Chapter Three of Hope is All  
  
By Coppercurls  
  
(Excerpt from Court Duel)  
  
"Speak, then," he said, his voice just a shade deeper than usual.  
  
I looked over my shoulder, and realized he was laughing. Not loud, but internally. All the signs were there, the shadows at the corners of his mouth, the sudden brightness of his gaze. He was laughing at me--at my reaction.  
  
I sighed. "It concerns the party I must give for my brother's coming marriage," I said shortly, and still another quick look.  
  
His amusement was gone--superficially, anyway.  
  
"You must forgive my obtuseness," he murmured. "But you could have requested your assistance by letter."  
  
"I did. Oh." I realized what he meant, and then remembered belatedly one of Nee's more delicate hints about pursuit--and pursuers. "Oh!" So he hadn't guessed why I'd really come--instead he thought I'd come courting him? And, well, here we were alone.  
  
My first reaction was alarm. I did find him attractive--I realized it just as I was standing there--but in the way I'd admire a beautifully cut diamond, or a sunset above sheer cliffs. Another person, finding herself in my place, could probably embark happily into dalliance and thus speed along her true purpose, but the prospect simply terrified me.  
  
He touched my arm, lightly, sliding his fingers up to my shoulder, and then under my hair to the back of my neck. His touch made me shiver. I closed my eyes--and gasped when lips met my own.  
  
Heat flooded down my body, replacing the cold shock of his touch. I leaned into that kiss as his hands caressed me. So this was dalliance, this was why the others paired off and disappeared, why the lifted brows, the secretive smiles. It was powerful, mind-numbing pleasure.  
  
But it was not joy.  
  
(End Excerpt)  
  
Well, at this point there was nothing I could do without getting myself in serious trouble. So I played along.  
  
He showed me all the passion and desire he had behind his courtly ways in the time that followed.  
  
After his, er--display, I swiftly left the Merindar house, more frightened than ever.  
  
The next day, I woke to find a letter from my Unknown and one from Flauvic. My Unknown's was written on plain paper and a imported linen paper was Flauvic's message. It read:  
  
My Dearest Countess Meliara-  
  
May I have the pleasure of strolling with you at the start of the second green?  
  
At the end with a large flourish he had signed his name. I realized he wasn't much for writing letters, since the one I had received yesterday was equally short and to the point. Although maybe that was a good thing.  
  
Yet I know I preferred to read letters from my Unknown, but then again, who wouldn't? It was like a dream, having a man like that loving me, but then I had to go and get myself mixed up with Flauvic. What was I to do?  
  
I sighed. Maybe I could straighten it all out if I went on that "stroll" with him. I penned him a quick response and gave it to Mora to send it to a runner.  
  
I spent the next hour or so writing to my admirer--it gave me such a bubbly feeling to do it, and I pointedly ignored the fact that I was smitten with a man whom I didn't know. Or maybe I did know him, but I didn't know it was him. Does that even make any sense?  
  
Well, it did to me, in a way. I spent my time before the second green grabbing a bite to eat and then talking with Nee and some of the other court ladies.  
  
When the bell for the second green rang, I excused myself and made my way towards the Merindar house.  
  
It was an awkward walk indeed, but eerily pleasant and polite. Flauvic made no attempts to mention what had happened yesterday until we stumbled upon Shevraeth.  
  
A look of interest and strangely enough, hurt, spread across Shevraeth's face when he spotted us.  
  
"Ah, The Marquis. Greetings," Flauvic said distantly and bowed.  
  
I spoke up, "Good Afternoon."I gave Shevraeth a small curtsy.  
  
"The same to you both," he replied stiffly. Then Shevraeth shot Flauvic a glance of venom and suspicion.  
  
Flauvic barely faltered at this. "It seems to be a good time for me to get going," he pronounced grandly. He pecked me on the cheek and exited.  
  
My face had, of course, turned a deep shade of crimson as Shevraeth questioned me with his raised eyebrow.  
  
"Uhhh..." was all I managed to choke out.  
  
He resolved to make it easier for me and ask me straight out, "Are you and Flauvic...ah..together?"  
  
I sighed, hoping that he would forget the kiss Flauvic had planted on my cheek. "It seems to be that way," I explained. "Yet I did not want it to happen."  
  
"You didn't? Then why did it?" he was confused. Well, confused for Shevraeth.  
  
"Long story," I said as I let out another sigh.  
  
"I have time," he looked up hopefully.  
  
I chortled. "No, you don't," I told him. "And why aren't you in court? It's only the second green."  
  
"We decided not to hold court today. There were no cases and we've tired of playing cards each day." he drawled.  
  
"Oh." I sounded ever so intelligent.  
  
Shevraeth probed me further, "Really, tell me why this happened between you and dear, dear Flauvic. He doesn't seem your type."  
  
I snorted, "Maybe that's because he isn't? Besides, I already love someone else."  
  
Shevraeth perked up a bit at this, "Fascinating. Would it happen to be the same man who sent you that lovely ring you're wearing?"  
  
I reddened, "Yes. I love him."  
  
"Well in that case, I love you too," he told me.  
  
With his face titled to the left, he gently leaned in and softly brushed his lips to mine.  
  
I deepened the kiss after it was all sorted out in my mind. Shevraeth--no, Vidanric, was my admirer. And a hell of a kisser, too.  
  
Vidanric cupped my cheek with one hand and again eased his lips over mine, and blew my mind away.  
  
I put the thoughts of what I was going to tell Flauvic away for a slightly less interesting time and focused on our amazing kiss.  
  
Author's Note: Eish eish eish. It didn't turn out at ALL as I wanted it to. Oh well. I hope it's not too terribly awful. I got writer's block halfway through. Damn that. Anyway, REVIEWWWWWW! 


	4. Home is Where the Heart is

Author's note: Thanks for the reviews, guys and here's another chapter. Sorry it took so long.  
  
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Sherwood Smith, save the plot line.  
  
Home is Where the Heart is: Chapter Four of Hope is All  
  
By Coppercurls  
  
(Excerpt from Court Duel)  
  
For dinner that night we found Bran and Shevraeth waiting in the parlor next to the dining room. Nee had probably prepared them, I realized. This was new for me, but it was according to the rules of etiquette; and if I looked at it as a rehearsal--more of the playacting--I found it easy to walk in beside her, minding my steps so that my skirt flowed gracefully and my floor-length sleeves draped properly without twisting or tripping me up.  
  
Nee walked straight to my brother, who preformed a bow, and grinning widely, offered his arm.  
  
This left me with the Marquis, who looked tall and imposing in dark blue embroidered with pale gold, which--I realized as I glanced just once at him- -was the exact same shade as his hair. He said nothing, just bowed, but there was a mild question in his gray eyes as he held out his arm.  
  
I grimaced, thinking: You'll have to learn this some time. May's well get it over with quickly. Putting my fingertips so lightly on his sleeve I scarcely felt the fabric, I fell into step beside him as we followed the other into the dining room. Though this was my home, I didn't plop down cross-legged onto my cushion, but knelt in the approved style.  
  
After I'd fortified myself with a gulp of wine, Bran said, "Life, Mel, you look fine. Getting some more of those duds?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"What have you done with your day?" Nee asked, her fan spread in the attitude I recognized from our fan lesson as Harmonic Discourse.  
  
"We had a bout with the group at the garrison, had a squint at some horses brought from up-mountain. Danric answered mail, and I went over to town with Calder to look at the plans for paving the streets."  
  
This was Tlanth business. I said, "Did you talk to the elders? They want part of their taxes to go to that."  
  
Bran nodded. "It's a fair plan," he said; and I sat back; relieved.  
  
Nee put her chin in her hand. "'Answered mail,' Vidanric? Is he referring to that formidable bag your equerries brought in this morning?"  
  
"We're finishing the last of the dispersal and reassignment of Galdran's army," Shevraeth said.  
  
"Dispersal?" I repeated, thinking immediately of my plans for evaluating his forming government. Surely it would raise no suspicions to ask about it, since he had introduced the subject. "You've dismantled that gigantic army?" ` "A huge standing army with little to do is both--"  
  
"'--a financial burden and a threat,'" I said. "I recognize the quote--and I agree," I added hastily, seeing consternation on Bran's face. "I just...wondered what was happening to them," I finished rather lamely.  
  
(End Excerpt)  
  
We spent a good time arguing about the fairest way to disperse an army, Shevraeth and I. I was enjoying myself and testing my theories. Yet by the end of our debate both of our meals had gone cold.  
  
I blushed and picked at my meal, trying to scratch up a few lukewarm pieces. Finding my search was in vain, I just gave in and devoured my food, which was edible despite its temperature.  
  
I peeked up and saw that The Marquis was following my example and eating his food. Nee and Bran were exchanging half uncomfortable and half amused glances.  
  
When dinner ceased I lay down on my bed, simply pondering about the passionate discussion The Marquis and myself had. What did my brother and Nee call him? Oh yes, Vidanric.  
  
I was lost in my thoughts when I heard a loud tapping noise on my tapestry. Without asking any further admittance, my brother Branaric entered my room.  
  
"Hullo, Mel." He said, fidgeting slightly.  
  
"Bran," I shot him a stern look, "Did I say you could come in?"  
  
He replied, "Er...no, but I knocked."  
  
I rolled my eyes but decided to let it slip.  
  
"Well what do you want?" I inquired.  
  
Bran looked more nervous than ever, "Mel, I was wondering, what's between you and Vidanric?"  
  
"What?" I was confused.  
  
"Umm, you know what I mean," Bran insisted.  
  
"Umm, no I don't," I mocked him.  
  
Bran chose to ignore my retort. He patted my head, as though I was a wee girl that need consolement. "Just think about what I said. You may try going into the library for comfort."  
  
He left before I had the chance to protest that he really didn't say much for me to think about and the library would probably not offer me any comfort.  
  
I would find out later that Nee was having almost the same conversation with Vidanric at the time.  
  
Instead of thinking about what Bran said, I was thinking of why the library. Did he have a surprise there or something? My curiosity got the better of me and I slid into a pair of silk slippers and padded to the library.  
  
I saw a tall figure I immediately recognized.  
  
Vidanric.  
  
So this was Bran's game. Sadly enough for him, I was not that stupid.  
  
He was trying to set me up with Vidanric.  
  
But why?  
  
Before I could think of an answer to that question, Vidanric whirled around.  
  
"My dear Countess." He pronounced grandly, bowing.  
  
My wonderfully polite answer was to snap, "What are you doing here?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow, "I should ask you the same question."  
  
"Let's not forget this is my home, therefore this is my library." I went on to explain things to him furiously, which was taking me a few minutes.  
  
Vidanric didn't seem to be listening to me. Instead, he had a dreamy look on his face. "What are you thinking about instead of listening to what I have to say?" I asked furiously.  
  
"How to get you to be quiet." He retorted simply.  
  
I could feel the rage building up inside me this time. "How?" I questioned him, with a mix of anger and joke.  
  
"Like this," with that, he kissed me, and left, leaving me there, completely poleaxed.  
  
Author's Note: Ok, this was worse than the last. I'm going to try to make it up to you guys on the next chapter. And again, sorry it took a little bit longer than the other chapters. I was kind of busy. Please review! I'll give you a cookie! 


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